


Frantic in your soothing arms

by itsalwayssunnyit



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychotropic Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:09:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwayssunnyit/pseuds/itsalwayssunnyit
Summary: In which Frank and Adam have been an item for a while, but haven't really settled on what kind of item exactly. Whatever it is, though, Adam is awesome at it. Alternatively, the one where Adam comforts Frank through his particular brand of anxiety and paranoia. There's cuddling and banter and everything nice.Hurt/comfort but not hurt-hurt, you know?Title is from The Unnamed Feeling, by Metallica \m/





	Frantic in your soothing arms

**Author's Note:**

> plot bunny I couldn't get rid of  
this is so self-servient I can't even
> 
> also, this hasn't been thoroughly proofread, so let me know if you spot any weird shit out there, yeah?

“I’m going to tenderly hold you and whisper reassuring thing and you’re going to _let_ me,” Adam says, matter-of-factly as ever. Frank’s chest feels tight at the rasp of his voice, for which Frank is _never_ going to admit he has a thing.

Alone in the tech lab, Frank chokes on air, blushing as though listening to the filthiest dirty talk ever. “I. Am. Working,” he snarls, a second too late.

Adam’s answering chuckle is this sexy, infuriating thing over the Infolink. They’re in the same building, for fuck’s sake. Adam could have called or sent an email if he had something important to say, but he insists on popping onto Frank’s line.

“_That_’s the problem,” Adam says.

“Yeah, I noticed you do have a problem with me working, since you’re so focused on preventing it from happening,” Frank shoots back. He makes a face at his computer as he opens the spreadsheet one of their technicians just sent him detailing the latest data breach attempts. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sarif Industries is, after all, under constant threat, at least virtually. No one’s been able to get through their defenses in a while, but Frank still has this nagging feeling that they might just be lucky.

“You didn’t go home last night,” Adam says, conversationally. Frank huffs a disbelieving breath, but Adam keeps going, “You’re going to give yourself a stroke if you keep going like that.”

“I told you I was going to work through the night,” Frank cuts him off, but it comes out too sharp, words cutting, bitter, so he quietly adds, “Thanks for breakfast, by the way.”

A huge cappuccino sweet enough to make his teeth hurt, couple of cinnamon rolls as big as Frank’s hand. Frank found them on his desk when he came back from a quick shower in the locker room early that morning. No note or notice and Frank almost forgot to acknowledge it with the way his mind is racing.

“You can thank me in person,” Adam says, confidence covering the barest hint of hope in his voice. “Can I come over?”

Frank tenses for a second. They _talked_ about this. About his apartment. _Boundaries_.

Also, Frank’s pretty sure he’s being watched. He’s seen a black sedan or two parked across his street, the same ragged-looking teenager sitting on the front steps of his building more often than not. This could be the night it all goes to hell, this fleeting semblance of normalcy, flirtatious banter, hidden kisses. Still, his answer is, “Sure.”

Why? He can’t even begin to contemplate. He just _wants_ Adam there. Near. In his apartment, in his space, biting back at his sharp and sometimes too acid remarks, teasing him into falling for him like the dumbass Frank can be when left to his own devices.

Frank doesn’t ask what time he’ll come over. Adam doesn’t say it. Who knows when Frank will finally consider his job done for the day. Maybe after that. Maybe even later, during the weekend.

Frank starts to run a diagnosis on their main server again, just to be safe. There have been some connectivity issues the last couple of days, but it could be anything, at this point. Poor network or a cold war heating up.

Frank’s jittery, you see. Has been for a while and right now? He’s neck deep into his own fears and paranoia, and that’s why he doesn’t notice Adam is inside the lab until the augmented man is standing on the other side of Frank’s desk, eyeshields retracted to let Frank appreciate the full weight of his disapproval.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Frank asks, leaning back in his chair, muscles on his back protesting every movement. He has to remember to stretch if he’s going to spend his days sitting for hours like this.

Adam scoffs. Actually scoffs, like a fucking _teenager_. He’s a nice distraction, however, all soft-looking hair and wide mouth. Good to look at. And Frank _is_ glad he’s here, but he’s still going to try his best not to let it show. “You’re going to bounce right off your chair that way,” Adam points out and Frank immediately stops bouncing the knee he didn’t even realize he had been moving.

“What are you doing here?” Frank asks in a deceivingly flat tone. He knows C.A.S.I.E must be having a field day on him, so he tries to settle his body language as Adam looks him over, an eyebrow raised.

“You said I could come over.”

“I thought you meant tonight.”

The other eyebrow comes up as well in pleasant surprise. “I thought you said you didn’t want me ‘hanging around your apartment,’ lest people know we see each other outside of work.”

Adam’s unimpressed tone gets him an eye roll.

_See each other_. What a peculiar way of saying _fuck_, Frank thinks, even though _fuck_ doesn’t even begin to cover what’s been going on between them. If it were just sex, things would be a lot less complicated.

“You felt my _lab_ would be more appropriate, then?”

“Well, it’s not like people are lining up to come in here.” Adam teases, but there’s something soft around his mouth when he asks, quietly as though not wanting to be heard, “What’s going on with you?”

Frank inhales deeply, gesturing vaguely at nothing in particular, his messy desk, the absolute mess _he_ is. “Nothing, really, it’s just…”

“Anxiety?”

That shuts Frank up. That feeling is back, pins and needles in his chest, throat tight, tongue stupid. It’s his fault, he knows, being too vulnerable, too transparent. He never really had to tell Adam. But it’s in his personal file, etched across his general demeanor for anyone who pays enough attention. And Adam does pay attention. He’s quite perceptive, even if Frank likes to pretend he isn’t.

Frank grits his teeth, gaze lowered, and nods.

Adam sighs, “Shit.”

Frank doesn’t look, but hears Adam walking towards him. The pressure of Adam’s hand, augmented weight hard and sure on his shoulder, helps a bit. Frank can still feel it, though, how _close_ he is to snapping.

“How bad is it?” Adam asks. Frank sighs in defeat. No use lying.

“Bad. Not ‘take me to the ER’ bad, but bad.”

It’s not the first time Adam’s seen him like this, but this is the worst he’s been since they became whatever it is they are now. “Wanna take something?” Adam offers, voice soft and low like it’s a secret.

Frank doesn’t even hesitate.

“What do you have?”

Adam fishes out a half-empty blister pack from his wallet. Frank takes one looks at the brand name as if recognizing an old friend. _It’s been a while_.

Used for anxiety disorders, panic disorders, anxiety caused by depression. Not to be used in case of narrow-angle glaucoma. Or pregnancy. He should be safe. High probability of habit-forming, though.

He pops a pill, swallows it dry. Adam pockets the rest.

Frank looks at his computer, but doesn’t do anything as the diagnosis software progress bar fills up. Adam keeps a hand on him, fingertips drawing shapes through the fabric of Frank’s clothes, and Frank doesn’t have the heart to ask him to leave. Adam’s right, after all. No one is going to come in here, not at — Frank checks the time on his computer — half past five.

When Adam offers him some water, Frank accepts it, but he denies a kiss, muscles locking up in apprehension when Adam tries to lean in for it. Adam hasty apology makes acid rise to the back of Frank’s throat.

“Don’t be. I’m… _I_ am sorry,” Frank replies. Adam doesn’t say anything, but Frank can feel his disbelieving glare weighing physically on his back.

Frank is sincere, though. It’s not Adam’s fault he can’t seem to calm down, these days. Always on guard, ready to bolt, fight-or-flight. It’s not that Frank _really_ thinks he’ll lose his job over _fraternization_, after all, Sarif Industries is pretty lax in that area, but he absolutely _can’t_ risk it. He already has such a rap sheet, if he messes this up, he can’t imagine what might become of him.

“… the boxes. You’d be surprised. It looks almost nice.” _Fuck_. Adam’s speaking and Frank just missed most of it.

Adam frowns, but there’s kindness in his silence. Frank can almost _feel_ the medicine kicking in, encasing him in cloudy warmth, dulling the thick panic in his throat. Adam was talking about his apartment, Frank realizes. It seems like he finally got rid of the boxes. Frank’s been teasing him mercilessly about his cardboard décor since the first time they stumbled into his living room together, a tangle of arms and legs and too eager kisses, too few words.

“I have to finish…” Frank begins to say, face warm, before he even knows what his excuse will be, but it’s enough for Adam to become less patient.

“Look,” Adam begins, coming to rest his hip against Frank’s desk, arms crossed over his chest. Frank has no choice but to look at him. “You _know_ I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want, but I also know how you get. And I know you don’t have anything urgent on your plate.” Frank doesn’t even argue. “Come on. Get your things. It’s still early. We can watch one or two Star Wars back at my place. I’ll even let you choose.”

“What if I choose a prequel?” Frank asks, but he’s already logging out of his computer, fingers a bit shaky with adrenaline that has nowhere to go. Adam just smiles that infuriating half-smile of his, cocky and condescending and irresistible, and holds up Frank’s jacket for the hacker to slip into.

They both know Frank would _never_ choose a prequel.

For no more than a fleeting second when they’re leaving the building together, Frank wonders if there’s anyone watching them. Judging them. Most people have already left for the day, though, as the sky turns from golden to deep dark blue outside. Adam doesn’t try to touch Frank on the way back or walk too close to him and Frank is grateful for it. He is also terrified, even though the feeling is a dull ache now, distant.

“How much coffee did you drink today, anyway?” Adam asks as they ride the elevator up to his apartment. Not Frank’s. Adam’s.

Frank shrugs. Can’t really remember, although his thundering heartbeat is as good a testimony as anything. “More than I should have.” There’s coffee everywhere. “It’s just… too accessible.”

And he’s not a kid. Accessibility shouldn’t be an issue. He just shouldn’t have drunk so much coffee, he knows. Not when he woke up feeling like some great disaster was looming over Detroit. Caffeine fucks him up if he’s not careful with it. Adam doesn’t comment on it, but he does slide a bit closer. Frank looks at him sideways, wondering, not for the first time, when Adam will finally realize what a massive bad idea this has all been. The last few months feel like something out of a fever dream.

As if hearing Frank’s frantic thoughts, Adam closes the space between them and kisses Frank’s parted lips. No cameras here. No one but them inside elevator. Frank lets his eyes slide closed as they slow to a stop, not quite kissing back, not quite pushing Adam away either.

Adam smells good. Familiar, too. Masculine and clean. He’s not really trying to start anything, either, he’s just kissing Frank like this is what he’s been waiting for all day long. Then the doors open with a whooshing sound and they break apart.

Inside the apartment, Adam offers him food even though he doesn’t really have anything in the apartment other than cereal, but Frank is not hungry. Something to drink then, and Frank shakes his head. Not thirsty.

“You did a good job organizing the place,” Frank praises, looking around as Adam drinks some water. The whole place looks so much cleaner.

“Thanks,” Adam replies, leaving his empty glass on the counter. Frank moves to sit on the couch, the exhaustion of spending the entire day in a state of constant hyperawareness finally catching up to him. “Do you want anything?”

“I want you to turn off the lights…” Frank replies, rolling his head from side to side “… and come sit with me.”

And it says something about what a strange day this has been that Adam just mutters a quiet, “Alright,” and obeys. In the dark, Frank’s eyes stop burning, and the only lights come from the city outside. The couch dips under Adam’s weight as he sits. Frank moves with ease, crawling onto Adam’s lap, knees bracketing Adam’s legs. As he settles, Adam wraps both arms around him, pulling him into an intimate embrace.

Frank rests his forehead on Adam’s shoulder and closes his eyes. Breathes in the scent of this man who acts like he belongs to him, like they’re each other’s, like that’s not terrifying, and lets the glowing warmth of Adam’s body touch the darkest parts of himself.

“Your hands are cold,” Adam points out. It’s not really a complaint, not with the way he’s cradling Frank’s hands between his own, flesh against prosthesis. Frank pulls back to look and there’s something uneasy in Adam’s eyes, something that’s always there whenever Adam looks at any part of himself, but Adam keeps going, pulls Frank’s hands to his lips and breathes on them, warm and damp. “They’re always so _cold_.”

“Bad circulation, maybe? I don’t know. I… uh.” Frank loses track of what he meant to say when Adam lays a kiss on his knuckles and then another, then another, until every joint is kissed.

Frank can’t breathe.

Adam looks up, inorganic eyes glimmering as they take in Frank’s face. “What are you so afraid of?” he asks. Soft. Loving.

Frank swallows.

“Nothing,” Frank says and it is true. There isn’t a single concrete thing that he’s afraid of, not really, but, at the same time, it’s also true to say, “_Everything_.”

Frank pulls his hands out of Adam’s grasp to trace the lines of Adam’s face. Short trimmed beard rough against his nails, cheekbones sharp under skin that is so soft to the touch, softer still under Frank’s lips as he leans in, more caressing with his lips than actually kissing, breath tickling.

Adam sighs into the touch. “I’m in love with you,” he says very carefully. The way he speaks, it’s like he expects Frank to run away screaming. Frank holds Adam’s chin, turns his face so that he can kiss his other cheek, open mouth gone soft against the tickle of Adam’s eyelashes.

Against Adam’s temple, he says, “I know.”

Hands, augmented, push Frank away just enough for Adam to look at him. Just enough for Frank to be unable to hide.

“Are _you_ in love with me?” Adam asks. No preambles. Yes or no. So unafraid.

“So much,” Frank replies, words torn from his throat, tight. Relief immediately washes over Adam’s usually stoic face and Frank can’t help it. Has to kiss those lips, parted in surprise Frank can’t comprehend.

Frank doesn’t smile. It still feels like the world is about to end even though he is warm and heavy.

“Are you scared?” Adam asks. Frank kisses him again as he ponders the question.

“Not now,” he ends up saying. “But, in general, I am. Yes.”

It’s all a part of it. Adam nods thoughtfully. Black fingers bury into black hair, pulling strands out of a messy ponytail and then rubbing against scalp, massaging, comforting. “I want to disclose our relationship. I think it will ease your mind a bit,” Adam says. “What do you think?”

It is natural, but it is also the next step and Frank never thought they would ever get this far. That would, after all, have required an optimism he doesn’t really have.

“I’d like that, but I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Frank admits, hating how fucking _unsure_ he sounds. “I mean, do _you_ want that?”

And there’s a note of disbelief there that has Adam frowning. Do you want people to know you’re with me?, is what Frank is actually asking.

“_Yeah_, I want that,” Adam replies, stopping just short of rolling his eyes. “I want _you_.”

Frank feels the panic rising, but it never really boils over. He nods before he can change his mind.

Adam leans back against the arm of the couch and drags Frank down with him, against him, until they’re lying together, face-to-face, bodies pressed together tightly. Frank focuses on breathing. In through his nose and out through his mouth. When he looks up, Adam takes that as an invitation to kiss him long and deep and _slow_, tongues dragging lazily, no hurry to get anywhere. Frank can feel Adam hard against his thigh and the pressure has him hissing through gritted teeth, arousal spreading like heat and warming up every cold, dark place inside him.

Adam slides a hand under the back of Frank’s shirt, raising goosebumps, and asks, “What do you want to watch?”

They settle on _The Empire Strikes Back_. Frank turns towards the TV, his back against Adam’s chest as Adam fiddles with the remote. As the credits roll up, the familiar soundtrack filling the room, Frank finally calms down. Adam keeps running fingers through his hair, up and down his arms, chest and stomach, every touch molding Frank back into himself. Every couple of minutes, Adam whispers something like, “I’m here. You’re fine. You’re safe. We’re fine. We’re going to be fine.”

They’re halfway through the movie when Frank starts to actually believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> as someone who suffers from anxiety and is all too familiar with having pills in her wallet JUST IN CASE, I know how good it can be to have someone nearby to talk me out of destructive behavior. hope you guys enjoy this piece


End file.
